When my confidence is shaken and the doubt creeps in,
I find my way to the beach.
It’s here, with my toes gripping the sand, the salty breeze on my face and the crashing waves drowning out the noise in my head that I am grounded.
Life continues to amaze.
Despite the unexpected twists and turns, the ocean and nearly full moon visible at dusk remain.
No matter what is happening inland or in my head, I can always escape here.
Just the moon and me.
A dangerous woman.
“I’m not going to lie to you. It’s a little dangerous to live a life in which you do what you want to do, behave in a way that feels authentic, pay attention to things you find of interest, and direct your passions in any way you see fit. You are now a woman who can’t be controlled by mass media and consumer culture. Congratulations, sister.”- Karbo
A dangerous woman, indeed.
It has taken my entire life and the help of this book to become the woman I am today, but I guess that’s the point. There’s no substitute for experience.
I’ve learned to let go of the woulda, coulda shouldas and instead, focus on the here and now.
Instead of regret, I channel my energy into encouraging my daughters to embrace their unique selves, while still pursuing my own.
I wake.
Karbo, Karen. Yea, No. Not Happening. How I found Happiness Swearing Off Self Improvement and Saying F*ck it All- and How You Can Too. 2020.
“God-or whoever is in charge of this planet- got drunk on the job one day and decided to give me the gift of writing. The way I see it, I have two choices. I can set that gift high on a shelf so it won’t get dinged up and nobody can make fun of me for playing with it.” He smiled until the crinkles at the corner of his eyes were deep enough to hide state secrets. “Or, I can have fun with it and play with the gift I was given until the engine burns out and the wheels come off. I decided to play. I suggest you do the same, young man. Go paint or draw or collage or whatever you want to do. Come back when there’s smoke coming off the canvas. And for God’s sake, go have some fun. Please?” – Shaffer, 2023 P. 78
I am so. Damn. Proud. Of myself.
I have written, since I could.
Diaries with useless locks and keys.
Journals considered my closest confidant.
“Dear Journal, You are the only one I can talk to.”
Everyone wanted to be Carrie but I knew, I already was Carrie.
It took one high school teacher mentioning, “You are a gifted writer.”
And over a decade later, a neighbor suggesting, “You should start a blog.”
For me to start a blog.
How will I ever properly thank them for the journey they have encouraged me to record?
I keep writing, that’s how.
I play with the gift I was given until there’s smoke coming off my paper.
And for God’s sake.
I have fun.
Special thanks to The Wishing Game by Meg Shaffer
I just experienced the Barbie movie.
And I’m shook.
It moved me to tears.
This movie was masterfully made.
Funny, thought-provoking and meaningful.
The set design was epic.
The cast, impeccable.
The humanity- relatable.
A mother and her “tween” daughter at odds who ultimately work together to help Barbie and her land find their purpose.
America Ferrera’s speech to “wake up” the barbies: “I’m just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman, tie herself into knots so that people will like us.”
Me too, Barbie.
Me too.
I walked in and explained that I’d held on to this gift certificate since Christmas. That I was in the midst of a family trauma and that I was here to relax and let some of that go.
What I didn’t expect was to burst into tears 45 minutes through, as my massage therapist pulled the energy from my muscles and flicked it away. As she summoned my breath and thanked me for feeling safe enough to let it go in that room, with her, a stranger.
But there we were. 2 strangers united at 9 AM. She, not knowing the trauma and still, meeting me there. Helping me to release.
We hugged, afterwards. After all, after weeping, what else is one to do?
And then we carried on. Her next client. My day with my daughters.
We release and we carry on.
I remember thinking, “No one taught me this.”
It began with the simplicity of taking notes.
I was a brand-new student at a Maryland boarding school.
We’d been asked to “take notes” on a couple of chapters.
I looked like a fish-out-of-water when an experienced junior came to my rescue and offered to teach me.
Her name was Pauli and she taught me how to highlight and write.
Fast-forward to meeting my future-husband and his mother, Betty.
She’d made a career as a homemaker.
I’d never known one.
I started taking notes.
How to cook, how to make a home feel like home.
Four children later, I’m still taking notes.
How to listen, how to heal.
No one taught me this.
But I’m forever learning.
What if somebody believed in you?
I mean it.
You know that pipe dream you once had . . . .
What if someone looked you in the eye and said,
“Yes!”
What would you do with that?
Have you ever heard the saying, “Don’t burn a bridge.’?
Well, I have. And in my history, it has meant a lot.
But at what point does holding onto burning embers do more harm than good?
Imagine it.
Cutting them loose.
Sad, but free.
And yet . . . always wondering . . .
What if they were still there?
It’s that moment no one wants to admit.
The one where you know you wanted it more than them.
I could argue I spent my entire childhood in this state.
The one where I was the bastard child, and they were the full-blood.
The one where I was lucky he wanted to keep in touch with me.
Yes, in my child’s mind, I had to be worthy.
And it never left me.
I’ve lived a life proving myself worthy.
And you know what?
I’m tired.
I’m too tired.
I. am. worthy.
If you want me, then meet me halfway.
I’m worthy.
It’s 5 P.M. and I have decided I’m taking the day off, today. Between the Kindergartener crying before school, the toddler’s epic battle at nap time and the almost 4 year-old locking us all out of the bathroom, I’m declaring myself done for the day.
My patience level is at a negative zero and I’m tired of expecting myself to somehow dig out another ounce. Today, I just want to go back to being me before children. It’s impossible I know, and not something I’m going to want once I see them all sleeping peacefully on the baby monitor later, but right now, I just want to pretend that I don’t have to always think about my actions all of the time.
I don’t want to set any more examples today of how to keep your cool when you really want to blow your lid. I don’t want to care about many bites of healthy food they eat, how much screen time they are getting, or the size of their poop in the potty.
I’m dreaming of binge-watching my favorite TV shows, of long, uninterrupted phone conversations, and eating junk food without having to hide it. I’m going to imagine myself sleeping until it gets boring, reading until I get a headache, and shopping in a speciality boutique store just because I can.
Tomorrow, I’ll grab my coffee and get back on the parent horse- making sure my kids eat their protein for breakfast, clean up after themselves, and behave like good citizens. But today, I’m giving myself a break. I’ll go through the motions tonight to feed them and get them to bed, but if all hell breaks loose, I. don’t. care. because. I’m. done. today. Join Me!
New Leaf Parenting 